A Vague Idea
by Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet
Summary: Mostly one-shots and drabbles. Range from K-T, AU, character studies and thoughts. Latest, Shelke finds herself having to take care of three kids and frankly, she has no idea what to do with them. Discontinued
1. Thieves Today

When Yuffie saw the foot fly out in front of her, two thoughts immediately went through her head. The first: I _should_ just jump it and avoid the trouble. The second: What fun would that be?

So, she let her foot get caught on the ragged appendage, pretending to hurt her knee in the process (being a ninja, she'd known how to fall without getting hurt since she was six…which tended to help with her clumsiness).

"Hey, you!" The wannabe punk that had tripped her stood up with a condescending, smug air. Two other similarly dressed boys sniggered behind him. None of them could possibly be more than seventeen or eighteen. The first brat continued. "You hurt my foot! The least you could do is say 'sorry'!"

"Yeah," another boy wearing a hoodie and beanie jumped down from a nearby, dingy wall and sauntered up beside the first one. Two girls and a fifth (very large) guy appeared from behind said wall. Who put a wall like that in the middle of a street anyway? Yuffie wanted to roll her eyes, but it would have blown her act, so she played the part of a cowering girl, as even more people surrounded her. Each of them, she noted, wore a bright yellow color either on their head or arm.

"And maybe something to compensate for the damage," the second boy continued.

One of the girls stepped forward, brushing the long hair on the half of her head that hadn't been shaven to reveal dark make-up in spirals along one side of her face. "Actually," she sneered, "You _have_ to compensate, or we'll make you."

Yuffie found it extremely difficult to hide an amused expression as she spoke. "W-what kind of compensation?" she asked softly. She knew she didn't look intimidating, as her rather short frame, and lack of visible weapons usually ether got her lost in a crowd very easily or slammed a large, blaring, neon sign over her head that said "pick on me" when crowds were absent. Of course, that's what she was going for at the moment.

"She is kind of cute," the tall guy who had a black t-shirt, and what looked like some sort of home-made armor covering various joints on his person commented in a very loud whisper. '_Kind of?_' Yuffie couldn't help but bristle slightly at his statement.

No one noticed her offense. Instead, the first guy nodded, his light-colored dreadlocks bouncing around with the movement. "Well, you can either pay us back with gil…or your body."

For a moment she considered pushing it just a little further just to see what kind of reactions she would get, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Maybe if she weren't in a tad bit of a hurry she would have. Truthfully, she really shouldn't have gotten into trouble in the first place, but she'd been jumpy.

She sighed inwardly, realizing that what little fun this had been would soon be over. In a flash, she'd bounded up and had practically vanished, only to reappear next to the first boy's side. "I'll take the second option," she whispered in his ear, right before she hit three pressure points in his neck in less than a second, dropping him like a rock.

For several seconds, the others in the little gang stared at her in shock, before they yelled out some sort of code word and rushed at her. Of course, by that time she'd already taken out four more and turned to face the next group, followed by a hoard of people who had started to pour out from the surrounding, drab buildings.

"Well," she said to herself as she knocked about her ump-teenth person unconscious and used their falling body as a pivot point to jam her foot into the knees of the person directly behind them, "I guess that's Edge for you."

Fifteen minutes later, she walked happily out of the alley-way, almost completely unscathed and wondering how in the world the new generation of thieves would ever be able to stand up for themselves. She'd only gotten a pouch and a half full of materia from the lot of them, although they'd had a fair amount of gil.

"What's the world coming to?" she asked herself, shaking her head and taking off in the direction of Tifa's bar.

* * *

There, revamped to a point where I don't cringe anymore. The next two are the ones that need serious help though. All of these will be revamped so I'm not embarrassed by them anymore.


	2. Meathods

Warning: The following scene may contain graphic content. If you have a problem with self esteem or suicide, you may wish to skip over this.

* * *

The wind blew strong and cold from off of the northern sea, curling through every inch of exposed Junon. Those few people who braved the pre-storm weather hurried with hunched shoulders through the metal streets, anxious to finish whatever errands that required their attention to so as to lessen their contact with the unfriendly weather as much as possible.

The one person who didn't hurry happened to be a lone, hooded figure that walked through upper level of the current capitol. The dark, leather coat he'd 'acquired' from a traveler he'd met on the eastern road protected his body well enough from the elements, so he saw no reason to rush. He would accomplish his task at his pace so as to assure perfection. A part of him also wanted to savor the current atmosphere. Cold didn't bother him. Actually, he preferred this kind of weather, as it tended to cause the gross lumps of flesh that called themselves humans discomfort.

The one thing he had been told he could not do under any circumstances was expose himself in any way, shape or form. The potential for panic at seeing his sliver hair and green eyes would skyrocket if anyone caught even the barest glimpse. He didn't particularly see any problem with that scenario, but he would follow his orders to the letter. That trait was what had always made him so valuable to his family.

A soft noise drifting across the icy wind interrupted his thoughts and caused him to slow his gait even more. His curiosity slightly peaked, he focused on a figure sanding on one of the many deserted, metal bridges not 100 yards ahead of his position. She stood, hunched over the railing, staring intently between the jerking of her crying into the churning water far below as her tears were carried away on the wind.

He'd been instructed to not come into contact with anyone he deemed unnecessary or anyone who could hinder his ability to accomplishing his goals, so he stood for several seconds and contemplated the young woman. Her ragged, light brown hair fell to her shoulders when it didn't dance around her head as the approaching storm sent a precursor of its fury onto the port-city. The worn shawl clutched around her shoulders told of her poverty, which came rarely in the upper city, but seemed to only add to her beauty, as did the simple, gray, knee-length dress and black leggings she wore underneath.

After a moment, Yazoo flashed a rare smile. It occurred to him that perhaps conversing with this woman could indeed help him accomplish one of his goals. Calmly, he strode up to her, and casually leaned against the railing so the pressure of the moving air would keep his hood up, and he would be free to use his hands if necessary.

It took her a moment to realize someone had approached her (how utterly and pathetically human). With a squeak, she started, jumping back slightly as her eyes looked over him. He liked that reaction.

"W-who are you?" she stuttered.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, knowing full well his voice sounded as cold as the icy wind.

She bit her lip and looked down for a moment, before opening her mouth to speak.

"M-my husband…he kicked me out of our house. H-he told me I was worthless and pathetic and horrible…he's the only family I have and—"

"He's right," Yazoo interrupted, unwilling to devote more time to this then absolutely necessary, mostly because her words bored him. Disgusting humans who thought their lives were actually worth something.

She stopped and turned to him, her eyes wide with fear. "W-what d-d-did you s-s-say?" she stuttered.

The smile from before returned, tugging at the Remnant's lips as he turned his head slightly towards the woman. "I said, 'he's right.'" Yazoo looked away from her, still relaxing against the railing. He could observe her from the corner of his eye easily enough. "You're worthless, pathetic, and weak. Instead of fighting back, you ran away, and came here, like a coward." He savored how with every word her face fell just a little more. "You came here with one thought in mind. That thought is befitting of a coward such as yourself, perhaps your one noble thought.

"I," he pushed himself slowly off of the railing, "do not know your husband, and do not care to meet anyone who would lower their standards to tie themselves to one such as yourself," he continued to grin cruelly as he began to walk away, moving one hand up again to clutch at the hood again. "I can only validate what I see to be true."

He continued to walk away, his stride long and nonchalant.

He'd almost reached the end of the bridge when he heard the splash, and grinned. Sometimes he liked this method even more than his beloved "Velvet Nightmare".

The wind blew strong and cold from off of the northern sea, curling through every inch of exposed Junon. Those few people who braved the pre-storm weather hurried with hunched shoulders through the metal streets, anxious to finish whatever errands that required their attention to so as to lessen their contact with the unfriendly weather as much as possible.

The one person who didn't hurry happened to be a lone, hooded figure that walked through upper level of the current capitol. The dark, leather coat he'd 'acquired' from a traveler he'd met on the eastern road protected his body well enough from the elements, so he saw no reason to rush. He would accomplish his task at his pace so as to assure perfection. A part of him also wanted to savor the current atmosphere. Cold didn't bother him. Actually, he preferred this kind of weather, as it tended to cause the gross lumps of flesh that called themselves humans discomfort.

The one thing he had been told he could not do under any circumstances was expose himself in any way, shape or form. The potential for panic at seeing his sliver hair and green eyes would skyrocket if anyone caught even the barest glimpse. He didn't particularly see any problem with that scenario, but he would follow his orders to the letter. That trait was what had always made him so valuable to his family.

A soft noise drifting across the icy wind interrupted his thoughts and caused him to slow his gait even more. His curiosity slightly peaked, he focused on a figure sanding on one of the many deserted, metal bridges not 100 yards ahead of his position. She stood, hunched over the railing, staring intently between the jerking of her crying into the churning water far below as her tears were carried away on the wind.

He'd been instructed to not come into contact with anyone he deemed unnecessary or anyone who could hinder his ability to accomplishing his goals, so he stood for several seconds and contemplated the young woman. Her ragged, light brown hair fell to her shoulders when it didn't dance around her head as the approaching storm sent a precursor of its fury onto the port-city. The worn shawl clutched around her shoulders told of her poverty, which came rarely in the upper city, but seemed to only add to her beauty, as did the simple, gray, knee-length dress and black leggings she wore underneath.

After a moment, Yazoo flashed a rare smile. It occurred to him that perhaps conversing with this woman could indeed help him accomplish one of his goals. Calmly, he strode up to her, and casually leaned against the railing so the pressure of the moving air would keep his hood up, and he would be free to use his hands if necessary.

It took her a moment to realize someone had approached her (how utterly and pathetically human). With a squeak, she started, jumping back slightly as her eyes looked over him. He liked that reaction.

"W-who are you?" she stuttered.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, knowing full well his voice sounded as cold as the icy wind.

She bit her lip and looked down for a moment, before opening her mouth to speak.

"M-my husband…he kicked me out of our house. H-he told me I was worthless and pathetic and horrible…he's the only family I have and—"

"He's right," Yazoo interrupted, unwilling to devote more time to this then absolutely necessary, mostly because her words bored him. Disgusting humans who thought their lives were actually worth something.

She stopped and turned to him, her eyes wide with fear. "W-what d-d-did you s-s-say?" she stuttered.

The smile from before returned, tugging at the Remnant's lips as he turned his head slightly towards the woman. "I said, 'he's right.'" Yazoo looked away from her, still relaxing against the railing. He could observe her from the corner of his eye easily enough. "You're worthless, pathetic, and weak. Instead of fighting back, you ran away, and came here, like a coward." He savored how with every word her face fell just a little more. "You came here with one thought in mind. That thought is befitting of a coward such as yourself, perhaps your one noble thought.

"I," he pushed himself slowly off of the railing, "do not know your husband, and do not care to meet anyone who would lower their standards to tie themselves to one such as yourself," he continued to grin cruelly as he began to walk away, moving one hand up again to clutch at the hood again. "I can only validate what I see to be true."

He continued to walk away, his stride long and nonchalant.

He'd almost reached the end of the bridge when he heard the splash, and grinned. Sometimes he liked this method even more than his beloved "Velvet Nightmare".


	3. Decisions

Another Yazoo study, this time from first person. This one is actually much older than my previous one. I still like it, though. This one is rated "T" for some violence.

* * *

I couldn't help but scoff at the girl who cowered before me--one unfortunate soul who had come across my path. She served no purpose, and knew of my existence. That meant she had to die...right? Not for the first time, I wished that one of my brother's was there to back my decision. Or was there another way around the problem? What would Kadaj have us do? Why did the youngest of us remnants get the leadership and decision-making skills?

"P-p-please," she said, looking up from the formation of rocks where I had knocked her earlier. She had no training, so it had hardly been worth the effort wasted to subdue her. "P-please don't kill me!"

"What's your name?" I asked. If she could be useful, then I could put my true talents to work. I preferred that anyway, not that I had any problem killing these gross infestations that Kadaj insisted Mother wanted eliminated (of course, she had. Even I had felt that) but that's why I had been sent to gather the children instead of to take care of the Shin-ra Puppets back then. I may not have had the strongest "link" to Mother, but I could talk just about anyone into doing just about anything, and I still had her interests at heart.

The girl looked up. "T-tara," she whimpered, finally answering my question.

"You live in Edge?" I looked over at the festering boil that surrounded what remained of Midgar. She followed my gaze, before turning back to me and nodding emphatically.

"I-I live with my mother and fience." I simply stared on, working things out in my head. That meant more people would come looking for her if she didn't come back.

"Your Fience?" I finally asked. That sounded promising.

She blinked. "Y-yes. Toerg Reesh, he owns a shop there. He'll pay you whatever you want to get me back!" Her words instantly shot any ideas I'd started to form down. I didn't have any real need of money, and this was merely a scouting mission. I would have to return to the one who called me "brother" soon, but at the same time if this girl had even a hint to the right connections then I could...

No. If big brother found out, he could ruin everything, just like he had last time. I felt the slight annoyance of frustration rise within me. What should I do? What would Kadaj do? What would Mother have me do? What would HE have me do?

She answered my question for me. Seeing my hesitation as some sort of weakness, she got up and started running. She didn't take so much as five steps before she dropped, lifeless to the ground. With a slight smile, I pocketed my still smoking gun and turned to head back towards the bike I'd picked up from those nice (now also dead) tradesmen.

Humans were such stupid creatures.


	4. Kids

Just fyi, this is a drabble and has not been betaed. I hope that you enjoy it...Shelke with kids. evil laugh here

* * *

Shelke blinked as she looked down to the figures now standing silently, fighting in the uncomfortable silence.

Kids. Children. Youngsters with almost no experience. No matter how she defined this in her mind, she continued to reach one conclusion: they were all screwed. Mentally, she gave herself a few points for being able to pick up on the local slang and use it in the proper circumstance, as she felt that it very accurately depicted their situation.

One female had long, brown hair tied back into a pony-tail at the base of her neck, a very large t-shirt and some pants that had been so filled with holes, it was a wonder they had stayed together this long. She had a small bag over her shoulder, and judging by her height, she was the oldest of the three children Shelke had been talked into taking.

Vincent seemed to be able to talk her into anything, and having the little tick…er…ninja tagging along didn't help, although their friend, Ms. Lockhart, seemed to be the most understanding out of the three. Shelke wasn't sure if that were a true representative of their positions on this subject, but they all three did seem to care for these children, who had no where else to go…just like she had been only six years ago.

The other two children couldn't be more different from each other, with one exception, they were both male. One stood tall, and gangly (almost as tall as the girl, although he had to be at least a year younger) with blond, unkempt hair sticking up in so many directions Shelke wondered if acquired some of whatever the blond-haired delivery man put into his own hair, and then been unable to locate a brush.

The third boy could not have been older than seven years himself, with large, beautiful, brown eyes and black hair that came down around his ears unevenly. He kept glancing up at the girl, as if he wanted nothing more than to hide behind her and away from Shelke, but would not let himself.

Instantly, Shelke liked him. She appreciated anyone with that kind of courage, especially from one so young. Vincent had made a good choice. Shelke had been expecting them, as he had called her previous to his arrival, and upraised her of the situation, but she had not committed to taking any children at that point. She herself had been raised in a very strict, military like situation, and knew nothing of raising children.

When he'd arrived, though, she'd been able to hear the slight hint of desperation in his calm and stoic voice. Only those who had known him for a while could even begin to touch on Vincent and his emotions. Contrary to what she first thought, he did have them, he just never showed them. So she'd agreed to take three, as long as they were in good health, willing to work, old enough to take care of themselves somewhat, and this was only temporary.

She realized she'd been scrutinizing them as if she were a general inspecting her troops, and immediately tried to smile (hoping that the gesture didn't scare them instead).

"My name is Shelke," she said. "You may call me either 'Shelke' or 'Ms. Shelke'. I will not be offended by either.

"This," she gestured around, taking another step, not realizing she still looked more like a soldier debriefing troops than anything else, "is my house. It is not large, and it is not new. There is only one extra bedroom that all three of you must share. We will go and find sleeping arrangements in said room shortly.

"I like my house to be orderly. If you take something out, you put it away again. If you go somewhere, you wipe your feet before coming in. If you have any problems with how I like my situation, you may inform me, but that does not guarantee anything will change." She paused and turned to face them directly again, her feet sliding over the old throw-rug she'd bought only a few months before.

They nodded, their faces paling a great deal, unnoticed by Shelke. "You all have phones, correct?" The oldest girl nodded, while the other two shook their heads in a negative. "Very well," Shelke continued. "I will obtain one for each of you," she nodded to the boys. "If you leave, you must inform me, either to my face or by phone. I will need to know where you are going to, and how long you plan on being."

With that, she stopped pacing and faced them yet again. "Do you have any questions?"

The older two shook their head, but the younger boy, looking as if he was about to die, raised his hand.

"Your name?" she asked.

"B-Beareed," he whispered softly.

"Very well," Shelke nodded, "what is it you wish to ask me?"

"I-I gotta go to the toilet."

Shelke blinked. "V-very well," she said. "Just down the hall," she pointed rather stiffly towards the bathroom. Immediately, the boy took off, blowing by Shelke. She turned back towards the other two, who exchanged glances before looking back at her.

"Uh oh…" she heard from the direction of the bathroom, and her stomach sank. She turned very calmly and began walking towards the restroom with one thought running through her head: 'Vincent, this was a BAD idea…'


End file.
